


You're Gonna Have To Go To New York For That

by periwinklepromise



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Divergence, F/F, Fade to black sex, Femslash, Hooking up, Lesbian Jackie, One Shot, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 10:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16852543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periwinklepromise/pseuds/periwinklepromise
Summary: Donna hated to say it, but Eric was right. If they had gotten married, she would have gotten herself stuck in Point Place with no way out and no dreams worth clawing out for to begin with. So Donna decided it was time to move on with her life, and when an important journalist offered her a job at a music magazine in New York City, she jumped at the chance. Bob even bought her a typewriter. Her dream finally came true.A few years later, when she unknowingly visits a lesbian bar for a story, she runs into an old friend.





	You're Gonna Have To Go To New York For That

Donna looks up from the records she is rifling through. “You want me to go _where_?” 

The station manager and zine editor Karen rolls her eyes as she repeats herself. “Marie's. It's in the Village. Go tonight, look around, get a feel for the scene, okay?” 

“When will you need the write-up?”

“Eh, three days. You may need the time to get past the hangover,” Karen jokes. “But for God's sake, don't dress like you're on the job. You've been to clubs before, right, Donna?”

“Yes,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “I'll wear something nice.”

*

“I have nothing to wear,” Donna groans, slumping down onto her bed in her tiny apartment. She'd seriously downsized her wardrobe when she left Point Place, mostly keeping her concert tees and all her comfiest jeans, not bothering with any of the dresses Midge had left behind for her to wear for Eric – scarlet red looked better on her mother than it ever did on her. And she hasn't really made any girl friends since moving to New York, so she doesn't have anyone to call up for advice. Or a loan. 

She sighs and forces herself back up. “Fine. Just -” and she shoves her hand into her closet, eyes closed, and snatches out the first hanger her hand hits. A denim jumpsuit that made her look like one of the Angels when she wore it back in high school. That'll work. 

She squeezes herself into it, tries on all of her different scarves before deciding it'll be too hot to wear a scarf with it anyway. She brings twenty bucks and hopes that she can convince guys to buy the rest of her drinks so she won't have to waste any more money.

“One hour,” she promises herself as she checks her quick lipstick application. No obvious smears, she should be fine. “One hour, and we can go home and sleep in.”

*

Weirdly, when she makes it to the club, there's a small line waiting for their turn, but they all seem to be girls. New York must be really different from Wisconsin, Donna thinks. She manages to skip most of the line when she mentions she works in music, so she slips right in and buys a beer. 

That is, she orders a beer, and then someone offers to pay for it, and when she turns to thank them, she realizes it's … a woman. Dressed in a suit, like she's a guy. Donna shrugs. Doesn't matter to her at all, and if there are girls like that somewhere stupid like Point Place, there have to be tons somewhere great like New York City. 

Donna thanks her, toasts her, and then turns away with a small smile, taking in the club. There's a good dance floor, so she might dance later. She casts her eyes out to look for a possible partner...

...And notices that there are … _only_ women in here. Probably. Some are dressed like men, have short hair like men, but definitely most of them are women. 

And then she notices a couple kissing and grinding on the dance floor, and another couple in a corner laughing into each other's mouths.

Oh. 

_Oh._

Oh, she is gonna _kill_ Karen. What did she think she was doing, sending Donna to scope out a bar like this? How did bars like this even exist?

“New York is weird,” she mutters. 

A couple of girls come up to the bar to order cocktails, and they're laughing so hard that one bumps into Donna, so she tries to move out of the way. But the girl turns to say – something, but she just stops and exclaims, “Donna?!”

Donna's eyes about pop out of her head, jaw dropped down to the floor. “Jackie?!”

It's definitely her. Those trick eyes that can be any color, the classic pink shimmer on lips so often used for pouting, the still delicate waves of dark brown hair. God, she hasn't seen her in years...

“You stayed blonde!” Jackie cheers, pulling her in for a hug-and-jump like she's some kind of cheerleader. The she steps back to ruffle up said blonde locks – they're not easy to maintain without Jackie around, but Donna thinks her hair still looks pretty okay. “Makes you look good. But so does not having that skinny neighbor boy hanging all over you.”

“Well, you know,” Donna shrugs, brushing off the Eric mention. “Blondes have more fun, and all that.”

“Is that why you're here? Having fun?” Jackie smirks.

The smirk seems weird. “You know I got offered a job here in the City,” Donna reminds her, a little confused. “Are you here working too?”

“No. Here, at Marie's.” Jackie waves a hand at the club, and Donna takes a second to remember where she really is.

And … _Jackie_ is here. And _she_ is here. With Jackie. 

Who is _here_.

Jackie laughs when Donna's eyes go wide. “I told you that you'd have to go to New York to find a lesbian, Donna.”

*

She isn't entirely sure how they got back to her apartment. Or how she found the strength to rip her lips off Jackie's to clean off her bed from all the rejected clothes from earlier. 

But Jackie pounces on her quickly afterwards and unzips her jumpsuit with an eyeroll. “I cannot believe you are wearing something that is so three years ago,” she mourns, kissing down Donna's stomach. 

Donna's hands tangle in Jackie's hair without a thought. “ _You're_ so three years ago,” she tosses back, thinking she could roll her eyes too but a little too distracted to be properly snarky. 

Jackie lifts her head away anyway, leveling Donna with a look she only recognizes because Jackie used to give it to Kelso all the time. “You want me to be three minutes ago? No? Then shut it. And get this off,” she commands, plucking at the legs of the jumpsuit.

Now, Donna thinks, would be an excellent time to take a step back and think about what she's doing and maybe decide to put an end to it right here. Jackie would be cool and understand, Donna reminds herself, while Jackie softly presses her lips to one breast, then the other. But Donna can do the smart thing and just zip this right back up and go out for some coffee.

...The jumpsuit gets tossed to the floor, along with Jackie's silk top. Donna lets herself run her hands right up those smooth thighs, lets them disappear under Jackie's ridiculous mini skirt, pushes the denim up around her waist to expose barely-there panties that – God help her – match Jackie's barely-there bra. Who wears three pieces of string for lingerie? Only Jackie Burkhart. 

“Come here,” Donna mumbles, tugging at the soft skin of her hips, not wanting to think about this anymore. “Let me kiss you.”

Jackie climbs close, thighs on Donna's thighs, lips on Donna's lips, all hot and hungry. They fall onto the pillows, but Jackie only stays for a moment before straightening back up. Donna whimpers in complaint, reaching out, but Jackie moves to the window and pulls up the blinds, letting in the light from the streetlamp on the corner. “Need to see what I'm doing,” she explains. She turns back to the bed, tugs her skirt down past her hips, and lets it drop. 

“You sound different,” Donna notes, blushing. Definitely haven't missed her these three years, would never admit to that.

Jackie just shrugs as she ties her hair up slowly. “Things are different here. I'm not quite so spoiled anymore.”

Donna barely remembers to scoff, almost enchanted by watching Jackie's body strain and stretch.

Jackie drops her hands from her hair and and gives Donna a pinch on the arm. “I'm not!” she insists. “For instance,” she says, and she grins wide and evil, “I give as good as I get now,” and she lowers her mouth onto Donna's panties.

_Oh!_

Well, well this is, this is very new, and, very nice, and _ohh_ , warm. She shivers, hard. Jackie chuckles against her, and that makes her moan, clapping a hand against her mouth to quiet it. 

Jackie moves it away, and then tugs down her panties fully. “None of that. I want to hear how great I am.”

“That's the Jackie I remember,” Donna teases.

“I'll give you something to remember,” Jackie mutters, with a small smirk.

*

Jackie leaves some time in the night; Donna first notices the absence of warmth, then later the absence of her companion altogether. She sits up and rubs at her eyes, sighing when she sees Jackie's clothes are gone from the room. 

Can't say she expected anything else though. 

She's sore in that fun, satisfying way that only happens after sex, a feeling she hasn't had in a while, and she pulls on her robe while praying there is actually some food in the kitchen.

...Where she finds a note, that reads

_**Have to go to work! (Yuck!) See you at Marie's later?**_

It is followed by three hearts, totally in keeping with Jackie's florid, still childlike script, and Donna recognizes the hearts as the one Jackie used to put over the I in her name. And then – of course – a clean press of Jackie's lips, painted a deep red. 

Going back to Marie's wouldn't be so bad, would it? Donna still needed to find something she could write about for the zine. She chuckles, and then groans. “I have to find another outfit!”


End file.
